Emptiness Inside
by ravioliart
Summary: A short story I wrote in 2012 about my miscarriage in my Creative Non-Fiction English class.


Emptiness Inside

Alora Rovatti – 2016

"There is no greater agony than _bearing_ an untold story inside you." Maya Angelou

 _I wake up and hear the rain beating on the window. I make myself get out of bed; it's always too early and I'm always too tired. The beating rain stops. I see puddles everywhere as I come down the stairs and get in my car. I put my seatbelt on and before I put my key in the ignition, my heads rests on the steering wheel and tears drip down onto my shaking knees._

 _He always leaves for work last minute. I get off the bed in search of my bra. I find it behind the headboard and slip it on. Next I look for my shirt and pants. We talk as he gets ready. He puts his hands on my curves once more. He says "Always go with a virgin because if you end up liking them, they'll already be attached. His lips are all over me. He knows me too well. He doesn't want me to think. His hands grab my hips and pull me to the edge of the bed. After that I forgot what I was feeling. No more anger. Just another distraction and one more time he'll be late for work._

It was only a minute that I was staring at that little white stick, but it felt like a lifetime. I picked it up and stared blankly at the bright blue plus looking back at me. I am nineteen, I am happy, I can do this. I am sure.

 _I am still sitting on the floor soaked with my cold, bright red blood. The smell of the small room is metallic. One of the bulbs in the light fixture flickers before it finally goes out over the mirrored cabinet on the wall casting an even darker shadow. The buzz of the overhead fan is distant. I am brought back to life from my phone buzzing. It's my mom. "Do you want anything to eat?" "No." "I'll be home around seven-thirty." The phone reads 6:18pm. That's my birthday. I grab the window sill and stumble to my feet. The cramping is unbearable. I watch the blood run down my thigh and leg into the small pool on the floor. I feel lightheaded. I start to clean myself up and find a jellybean shaped lump in the glassy, blood covered floor. My tiny baby. I pick her up and hold her in my palm for a while not sure what to do. I flush her. As I watched my dream get swallowed by the white porcelain bowl, I felt nothing at all, no emotions, no sensations, Nothing. The bowl filled with clean water and I started to clean up the bathroom floor before my mom comes home. I carry a trash bag out to the back porch where my mom startles me with her early arrival. "I brought leftovers, you can have them. Did you clean your room?" She says looking at me and the trash bag in my hand. "Yes."_

 _I'm at stocking the produce shelves like I do everyday when I hear a giggly baby in the department. I immediately turn around to see a tiny little blue eyed girl laughing at her mom who is comparing tomatoes. I walk over and offer assistance. The child looks at me and smiles. I look back at her and coo at her beautiful baby blues. Her mother and I talk about how we both are suckers for blue eyes. I play with this beautiful little girl and in the midst of peek-a-boo she grabs my finger with her tiny hand and giggles. I am speechless at first and then smile. Her mother asks me if I had kids of my own. I just say "No." I try to keep my smile. When she lets her tiny grasp free from my finger, I wave good bye in an exaggerated way and make my way to the bathroom trying to hold back the tears until I was in a stall._

 _I stand in the second row next to a trio of fake plants. Above me is a large painting of Jesus riding a white horse and behind me is the same short haired woman singing off key as when I was a child. My hands are folded on the bench in front of me. I tug on my sleeves as I catch a chill; the air conditioning is always too cold. I look ahead to the projected song lyrics on the wall. "Are you washed in the blood, in the soul cleansing blood of the Lamb? / Are your garments spotless? Are they white as snow? / Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? " As everyone else sings, I stare blankly at the lyrics in this loud, musty smelling and cheerful room. I am definitely washed in the blood, my own blood on the cold bathroom floor. My garments were spotted, not spotless._

 _The light above the schools yoga mats flickers. I stare blankly ahead until class starts. The class instructor tells us to notice any thoughts that come to mind, and then let them go with non judging awareness. I breathe and try to relax._

 _It is spring yet the concrete is still cold, even in the sun. I sit down on the ground to read and feel an overwhelming sense of panic. I run to the bathroom expecting blood, but nothing is there. Nothing is ever there._

 _Finals week is always very hectic, especially with six classes. I have been sitting in this wobbly wooden chair for three hours so far, looking at everyone's art. I am exhausted from work the previous night and have been almost falling asleep for the past hour. Then I see her hang up her paintings. I haven't seen her all semester and assumed she graduated. She is pregnant. I am mesmerized by her perfect little baby bump. Everyone looks at her work but I look at her as she moves her hand to her back stretching. I have a sudden urge to cry. I turn to my friend and say "I wish I had a baby on the way…" She looks at me like I'm crazy._

 _My co workers told me that kids ruin your life and that I should reconsider my choice to have them. Hours ago during my shift I say "They can't be all bad right?" "They ruin your life." She then goes to say "Nothing is ever the same." Isn't the point of having a child? Your lives will never the same. It's 2 am and I just got home from my shift. I drop my bag on the floor and take off my dirty wet clothes. I get dressed and sit on my bed and listen to the greeting oinks of my guinea pigs. I start to cry. It is now 3am. I have to be up in four hours. I try to stop crying so my eyes aren't that puffy when I wake up. I wake up as tired as I was when I went to bed. My eyes are puffy with dark circles underneath. People ask "Are you tired?" "Yeah" I say as I tug on my sleeves, trying to hide the sadness etched on my skin._

 _I am sitting in the room waiting to see my doctor. I hear the knock on the door and she comes in. I know it's too early for an ultrasound but I wonder if I could ask her later on. But later on never comes. She has my blood work results. Her face is gentle and sympathetic. I start fiddling with my hands._ "It seems _that the original test I took was a false positive. You are not pregnant". This time I lost a child that was never even there. I was not numb. I feel everything_

My miscarriage has broken me in a way I will never heal from. This has been an awful thing to experience alone but there is some relief and guilt that follows. I am relieved that my child will not come from a broken home. I am relieved that he has no reason to be in my life and I have finally broken away from that attachment. There is guilt in my attitude toward other mothers or mothers to be. I look at them with great envy; they are all healthy and happy and I am broken and bereaved. Going through this has made me realize _without a doubt_ that it is all I want. I want to be pregnant and for once not feel empty on the inside. The desire gets stronger with every loss and every day. Everywhere I go I see babies, or baby clothes, cribs and toys. I hope that I am lucky enough to find a man that will stay with me and also to make it through a pregnancy long enough to hear my baby cry. I know that if this, in any form happens to me again, I will not recover.


End file.
